The Slow Dance
by LadyKailitha
Summary: John is tricked into dressing up for a masquerade ball by Mycroft. But who is the Scarlet Pimpernel and why does he illicit such a response in him? Slash


I tugged on my cuffs cursing Mycroft a final time before stepping out on to the top of the stairs. The servant banged twice on the floor with his stick.

Once he had most of the people's attention he called out clear as a bell, "The Musketeer Olivier d'Athos de la Fère!" I sighed and took my first step on the top stair and there was the pattering of clapping. I wasn't sure if it was customary to clap when someone new arrived but it made me feel good about the costume choice.

Mycroft had paid to have the damn thing made. From the tight black leggings, the ridiculous hat and even the rapier on his hip and custom built musket on his back. Everything was tailor made to fit me like a glove. What the brilliant blue tabard hid however, was my service pistol.

That's right. We were on a case. Or at least Sherlock was. Mycroft had pulled me into this one because despite Sherlock's claim to the contrary, he couldn't do it alone. Not that Sherlock would be told, of course. Strictly hush hush. I rolled my eyes at the memory and curse the elder Holmes again. I think the bastard just wanted to see me dress up.

I had some allies here tonight. Lestrade was forced to go because it was his case but didn't want to tip the thief off that he was there on official business so he had brought Molly along. I knew what their costumes were. They were just there as friends so did not dress to match.

Lestrade was predictably enough Javert from Les Misérables. Molly however chose the ill fated Odette from Swan Lake. The feathers were leaving behind a trail as she walked around. I shoved my gloved hand into my mouth to keep from laughing as feather tickled Mycroft's nose.

Mycroft had chosen to play the role of the devious and cruel Phantom of the Opera. And he said he didn't have a flare for the dramatic. It seemed strange when I thought about that the three men that professed a love for queen and country as much as Greg, Mycroft and myself that all of us would chose distinctly _French_ characters. So much for patriotism.

I was looking around for Sherlock but didn't see him. He was the one person Mycroft refused to tell me who he was. Which I protested, adamantly. How was I to protect him if didn't know who is was? But Mycroft said that if I didn't know Sherlock by now, I didn't deserve to protect him. I hit Mycroft. He must have been feeling grateful for the masque tonight. Especially since I hit him with my left.

Mycroft and my eyes met and he smirked. If there hadn't been a crowd of people between us I would have bruised his other cheek, the rat bastard. The damn fool servant was banging again and it beat a horrible rhythm to my head cause it to ache. It must be this bloody mask, I swore under my breath.

I looked up and my breath was taken away. Standing at the top of the stairs with a powdered wig and baby blue late 18th century garb was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

"Sir Percival Blankney, Baronet. The Scarlet Pimpernel." His masque matched his outfit and his eyes. I stared entranced as I wondered who he was. Suddenly my previous mission was gone. I had to find out who this man was that had captured my attention. I looked at the clock, it was only a little after ten. I could wait the two hours but I didn't want to. I wouldn't.

They struck up the music and the dancers took their place on the floor. I watched as Mycroft took up a lovely fairy with glossomer wings to the floor and Javert and Odette do the same. I looked around but didn't see my blue eyed wonder anywhere. I sighed and looked around. I picked a nice looking princess and took her to floor instead.

I laughed as I listened to her to her twitter like a bird, her voice high and flighty. All throughout the dance I kept my eye out for that dashing Englishman. I spotted him and tried to end the dance close to him so that I could talk to him. I bowed to my partner and then grabbed two glasses of champagne and made my way to the tall man.

"A drink good sir?" I asked handing one of the glasses out to him. He nodded gracefully and took the glass. I watched as he took a sip. Perhaps a bit too closely.

"Thank you," he said, his voice lilting. I felt a shudder go up my spine. He winked at me. "Would you care for a dance?"

"Would such a display be allowed on an occasion such as this?" I inquired, secretly hoping that it would be very much allowed.

"I don't see why not. After all in today's society there are all sorts." There was something in the way he said that pricked at my mind. I nearly had it when his hand brushed mine and all thoughts went out the window. I gulped and set my barely touched glass on a passing waiter's tray. I let him lead me out to the floor.

"I suppose I'll be the girl…" I chuckled. "Considering I'm so short." He chuckled with me and again I felt that thrill. But as before, before I could light on the feeling he touched me and all thoughts flew away. This time it was my side and I'll swear to god, I had actual butterflies.

The music started again and we moved around the dance floor. What I hadn't noticed at the time was that one by one the other couples moved off the floor and watched as we waltzed across the wood, our feet graceful as almost if we danced on air. Because that's what it felt like to me. Like we were on a cloud far away from everything else. Everyone else.

There was no Mycroft, no pressing crowd, no mystery to be solved. Just me and this man.

"Why did you chose Athos of all the musketeers?" He asked.

"Because of the three I am least like the other two. I'm no drunkard fool like Porthos nor am I so… to be honest I'm not sure what to call Aramis. He's constantly changing his mind what he wants. A priest, a musketeer, a soldier, an abbot. He's never satisfied. Athos is the eldest of the three, had a horrible life and yet still fights for king and country. He cares deeply for the other musketeers. I've always felt a stronger connection to him than the others…." I stopped. "Oh dear god. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's fine. I'm enjoying listening to you."

"So why the Scarlet Pimpernel?" I asked, hoping to take the pressure off me a bit.

"The first disguised hero. Brave, intelligent, cunning. With an arch-nemesis just as cunning as he was. What's not to like?"

"Oh I don't know, how about the way he treats his wife?" I joked.

"Ah. But don't you see, he didn't _want _to treat her that way. He only did it to protect his men. To protect the people who looked up to him. He broke down after she left that night, kissed barrister where her hand lay, where her foot trod."

"And are you a romantic, Sir Percy?" I asked a little breathless.

"I wouldn't say so but then I've never been in love, so I couldn't tell you."

"Wow, to have never been in love… that incredible and sad." I reached up and touched his cheek. It was so soft and pale… and… oh shit….

"I believe the music has stopped." I turned and saw that we were the only ones on the dance floor. I blushed, grateful for the first time that night for the hot, sticky thing that clung to my face and covered my cheeks.

I dropped my hand quickly and looked down. He led me off the dance floor and into the arms of the blonde princess I had danced with prior. Quickly I was led out to the dance floor by her and we were swarmed with other dancers. I looked around but the Scarlet Pimpernel had vanished.

I was almost sure I knew who he was but it hadn't sounded like him but I knew those cheeks far better than I knew my own. How many times did I touch them to patch them up, wipe a blood splatter or once to even dry a tear? Of course, I'd punched him too. I was sure it was Sherlock.

But he had vanished. I danced a couple more dances not with the princess, she bored me. _Dull_. I could almost hear him say. But once with Mycroft's fairy, once with Molly. All the while I kept my eye out for that dashing figure. Just when I had given up hope, I heard that delicious baritone in my ear. "I'm right here, John." He purred. I jumped and leaped around. Sure enough there stood my dashing baronet.

"God, Sherlock!" Was all I could get out before he brought me out to dance floor. This time the look in his eyes smoldered. My heart skipped a beat. He pressed me close to him and whispered in my ear.

"I thought you weren't gay John." His voice vibrated something in my chest.

"Dear god. It's only you, it's only you." I said, trying to articulate what I meant.

"Really? So you knew who I was when you brought me a drink, like some maiden you were wooing?" Sherlock purred.

"I must have on some level. Because there is only one man that affects me that way." And it was true. Everyone else seemed to pale in comparison.

"Hmmm…" he muttered into my tabard. "Affects you in what way, John?"

"Oh, god. Like that, Sherlock. Like that." He chuckled and then raised his head level with mine. He pressed his hand on my neck and looked deep into my eyes.

"Increased heart rate. Pupils dilated. Breath swallow. Do you love me, John?"

I merely pressed my lips to his. We stopped dancing and held on to each other.

He murmured my name and suddenly I was on that cloud again. He pulled apart.

We finished the dance wrapped in each others arms.

"Who taught you how to dance so gracefully?" Sherlock murmured into my ear. I touched his cheek again. Now that I was allowed to, I couldn't get enough of it.

"You did." I muttered before pressing my lips to his. Suddenly he broke off the kiss and stared down at me with these wild excited eyes.

"Brilliant!" He grabbed my hand and led me to Lestrade. I wished that I wasn't wearing gloves so that I could feel the warmth of his hand. He muttered something to the detective and Greg nodded his assent.

He stopped and glared at Mycroft. His brother merely smiled and vanished into the crowd.

"I think it's time to take you home now, John." That purr in his voice was back.

"So you solved the case then?" I asked, trying to stay standing.

"Yes, and without the use of this." He pressed the spot on my back that held my service pistol. My eyes went wide and he chuckled.

"Home. Definitely home." I muttered. My body was starting to heat up.

He took my hand and lead me to one of the limos and hopped inside.

"Sherlock, we just can't take someone's limo!" I protested.

"We're taking someone's limo. We're taking mine. Edison, take us to Baker St. please."

I stared at him shocked. "You have a limo?" I asked incredulously.

"Well for tonight I do. I couldn't just arrive in a cab you know. It wouldn't have been appropriate."

"Of course." I muttered before pressing my lips to his. Again my breath became labored. "God, you're beautiful."

"Mmm…" he laid his head on my shoulder. "And you are the most incredible man I've ever met. Stay."

"What am I, a pet?" I joked but he looked crestfallen. "You know I didn't mean it." I said cupping his face in my hand.

He looked at me with those shining eyes and I knew I was lost forever. I took off his masque and threw it to the floor of the limo. My masque followed suit.

"No more masks. No more hiding our feelings. Just you and me, together forever." I breathed as I brought my hand back to rest on those delightful cheek bones.

"I think I am a romantic after all. I can't think of a more delightful way to spend my years. No matter how many or few that happens to be."

I chuckled and kissed him again. Abruptly the car stopped and Sherlock and I got out of it giggling and laughing like school children. As they made it up the stairs they began to lose parts of their costumes. The wig was the first to go, so I could run my hands through those silken locks. The second thing to go was my weaponry. The saber and the musket. Next came my gloves and then we reached the our flat.

I kissed him softly. "To the rest of our lives." He led me to his bedroom and closed the door tightly.

"Oh and the things I going to do to you to fill those hours." He purred.

"Oh god yes.


End file.
